Uppercase, lowercase
by SakiJune
Summary: "Daddy? May I have an osgood, when I grow up?" He curled a lock of her hair in his finger and smiled. "Sure, Tiger. Heaps. All at your feet."


Scales of Injustice is one of my favourite Classic Who novels - I love each and every novel where UNIT is present or just mentioned, actually. Steven Moffat just confirmed in DWM that Sergeant Osgood and Kate's late assistant were related.

Yes, I ship Malcolm Taylor/Osgood and I am proud of that.

Unfortunately, I am not mothertongue so you could find grammar errors or lame expressions - though some of them are there on purpose because of Kate's temporary regression.

Thanks to Charlie and Allons-y for their help.

* * *

"You got any toys, at work?" Kate asked, sitting in her father's lap.

"Sure. A lot. And pretty complicated, too."

Fiona, with tense fingers, had finished to stitch Aloysius' right ear. At the kitchen table, Alistair chuckled at her in an attempt of complicity, but she did not seem to notice. She tucked the bear into Kate's arms - her daughter squeaked with joy and thanked her - and left the room, carrying her sewing basket.

"And when they break, who fixes them for you?"

"There's a man, he calls himself The Doctor. He knows a lot of things."

"May I have a doctor, when you are away?"

When he was away. _Ergo_ , most of the time. He could distinctly feel Fiona's stern, judging gaze upon him, though he knew she was not in the room anymore.

"God forbid. Stay away from him, he's quite moody. And hoity-toity." _Though he would never be rude to children,_ he pondered. _But never mind, she'll never meet him anyway._

Kate's little face clouded over. - So he doesn't want to fix your toys?

"He's got better things to do, I suppose. I've got Osgood, just in case. Good chap."

"What's an os-good?" He could picture her words, written in her head with lowercase, brightly painted letters. Children were such special human beings. They could still see the world as a lively, safe place to live in.

"Well, let's see... a bit like Benton, but less brawny and more brainy." He hoped she could appreciate the pun, even at such a young age.

"Daddy? May I have an osgood, when I grow up?"

He curled a lock of her hair in his finger and smiled.

"Sure, Tiger. Heaps. All at your feet."

* * *

Her ribs still ached, and she was not supposed to stay out of bed, but she had made her way to the other end of the room.

"You saved me… " she whispered, leaning on the cold sill.

"I did, my child. But I cannot save you from _yourself_. It's up to you. Going out. Going on."

She kept staring at the window, not looking out, just at the pane. A fly was repeatedly bumping against it. Quite fitting.

She knew he was not really there.

Still, she needed to keep him close. She was not ready to let him go. She was not ready to let _anyone_ go.

 _Stardust,_ someone had told her.

So poetic.

But the girl had been nothing like that. She had been a solid presence, following her everywhere, wheezing and enthusiastic.

"I feel the Void. The Nothingness. The Grief. And... Desperation. I've lost..." Her voice seemed to regress into a disturbing, sobbing falsetto. -"I've lost my osgood."

"Oh. It's sad. But… there are other chaps in your team, I presume. I can remember some McGillop guy and Doctor... Taylor?"

"You can do nothing good with a mcgillop. And my taylor is broken."

"Surely you can help..."

"No, I can't. It takes an osgood to fix a taylor," she explained, waving her hands abruptly. The fly rushed off.

"I see, Tiger. Right. You'll have to make it by yourself. Well, just remember when you learned to read and write."

Silence followed, but when she opened her mouth again, her hitherto transfixed eyes flickered and watered.

"You weren't there." This was her normal voice again, well, almost. There was a slight shadow of resentment in it, which both had hoped was gone for good.

"I know. And I'll never forgive myself for that. But you did learn, at some point. So now you should know how to use caps properly."

"We're _talking_. I don't need to use caps," she objected.

"In your head. It's happening in your head, and I can read it. People are people, and feelings are just... feelings. Make order in your priorities."

" _You_ are talking of priorities?" she mouthed in anger.

"I am. I made mistakes. This is why I'm telling you now, let's put some decent caps to names. You've grown up, Kate. That Void you're speaking of... is just free space. And grief is a passing phase. I know well how you're feeling, and I assure you, it is. But there are other words you can write in all caps, you see. Carve them in your heart." He leaned on her daughter to kiss her on the forehead, as she closed her eyes in expectation. "LOVE. And HOPE."

When she opened them again, the window pane was reflecting her pale features, and nothing else. Of course.

She took a long breath and nodded to herself. It was time to get back on track.


End file.
